


blister

by achievingelysium



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Lio whump, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21739948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achievingelysium/pseuds/achievingelysium
Summary: “Lio!”“That’s my name,” Lio says dryly, picking at his sleeve.“You’re here!”And then Galo’s brain catches up, because the poor thing works really hard and takes some time, you know?“Holy shit—Lio! You’re here. At my apartment!” He squints. “And it’s like, two in the morning.”Three months after not seeing each other in person, Galo opens his door and finds Lio standing on the other side, tired and hurt.
Relationships: Lio Fotia & Galo Thymos
Comments: 29
Kudos: 280





	blister

**blister**  
achieving elysium

* * *

It’s been about three months since Galo has seen Lio’s face. Okay, well, not  _ just  _ his face, but the point is that three months is like, way too long. 

But Galo gets it. The Burnish need care, and help, and a leader. Where Galo’s shiny, Burnish-Flare fighting tech is a little too much for fighting regular fire, and the Burning Rescue’s original purpose is gone—there’s still work to do. Still fires to put out with his burning soul. For the Burnish, though… everything is gone. It’s a chilling thought. 

Every now and then he checks in with Lio; the guy seems to be in a different place whenever Galo calls. One day he’s half around the world, the other Galo catches him glowering at some poor Promepolis official. He’s trying to help the Burnish find family, rebuild, sorting out logistics, fighting the deep-rooted prejudices that Galo suddenly realizes has been everywhere for the past thirty years. 

Yeah. Galo gets it. 

So he doesn’t expect to see Lio Fotia on the other side of the door when he’s rudely woken up at some ungodly hour. 

“Lio!” 

“That’s my name,” Lio says dryly, picking at his sleeve. 

“You’re here!” 

And then Galo’s brain catches up, because the poor thing works really hard and takes some time, you know? 

“Holy shit—Lio! You’re here. At my apartment!” He squints. “And it’s like, two in the morning.” 

Lio cringes. It’s such a non-Lio movement that Galo pauses, realizing he’s crossed the boundaries of what Remi keeps calling ‘personal space.’ He backs off. 

Lio takes a breath. “I…” 

And he falters. 

Okay, so Lio is being super not-Lio. Okay. The Lio Galo remembers made a fucking dragon out of fire, would have thrown himself into anything to save the Burnish, was quick and confident and sure. He’s not— pale and shivering, eyes low. Suddenly Galo shifts, and the dim light catches on a dark smudge on Lio’s face. Blood.

“You got a little, uh….” Galo blurts, “uh, you’re bleeding!” 

Lio cracks a smile. Lio’s bleeding, and he’s smiling. 

“I’m well aware,” he says, and his lashes flutter against his cheeks. “I can leave. If I’m… inconveniencing you.”

“Dude,” Galo says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re bleeding. Come in.” 

He steps back into his apartment, and Lio follows, right hand clasped around his left wrist. He slips his shoes off and walks quietly behind—ghostlike. The last time Lio was here he’d walked into the place like he owned it, familiarizing himself in the space. He’d made box mac n’ cheese in the kitchen, eating it curled up in front of the news on TV. 

They head right into the bathroom, where Galo has a dedicated cabinet full of first-aid kits. Lio sits on the floor with his back to the bathtub, watching warily as Galo pulls out a clear box. 

“I’ll take it from here,” he says when Galo cracks his kit open. 

Galo frowns. 

It’s not like Lio isn’t  _ capable _ . Lio’s capable of plenty, even without the Promare. He commands a room with his presence; he can draw every eye to him with the same magnitude as he can make them look away. Galo’s seen him stare down every Promepolis official there is, every person who worked on the Parnasuss Project. Galo’s seen him run a soothing hand down a child’s back. He’s seen Lio smile, and it’s kind of one of the coolest things in the world. 

But he also remembers back when the mess had only begun—Meis pulling him aside and saying,  _ you gotta help us look out for Boss ‘cause he’s not too good at doing it for himself.  _ And the other one, Guiera;  _ he doesn’t know how to ask for help.  _

Galo had promised. 

“I can help you,” he says. In the fluorescent light he sees Lio. Drawn, tired. There’s bruising forming along his jaw. The blood’s from a cut along his cheek. Galo tries for a smile. “We’re not Galo de Lion for nothing, right?”

Lio sighs. His eyes close for a second—Galo jerks, thinking Lio’s passed out.

But then Lio opens them again, and says, “Alright.”

Before Galo can react, Lio’s twisting. He carefully unzips the jacket, a size too big, and peels it away. Galo throws himself backward when he sees the mottled skin on Lio’s arm. Burns. 

“...Lio?” 

Lio doesn’t meet his eyes. His breathing is uneven. Slowly Galo scuttles forward on the bathroom floor and takes Lio’s hand, gently straightening his arm to get a closer look. 

“Why didn’t,” Galo’s voice doesn’t sound right, “you go to… the hospital, or, or, why didn’t— you’re welcome here, don’t— who?”

Lio shrugs with his uninjured shoulder. “I can’t go anywhere else,” he murmurs, “I trust you.” 

Lio’s fingers curl around his. Galo’s shaking, but he doesn’t let go. He’s trained for this. He’s a member of the Burning Rescue—he forces himself to stop shaking and reaches for a towel, throwing it into the tub and running cool water. 

“Lio,” Galo says, to the sound of running water, “what… happened?”

Lio bites his lip, glaring angrily at the ground. There. Anger. Galo can work with that. 

“Fire doesn’t protect me anymore,” Lio says after a moment. He doesn’t make a sound when Galo pressed the cool compress to his arm. He doesn’t even flinch, but his fingers twitch. “I knew that. But people started figuring that out, too.” 

There’s a sort of ugly picture forming in Galo’s mind. 

“You’re not a bad guy,” Galo whispers. 

“Not everyone sees it that way.” Lio closes his eyes, dropping his head forward against Galo’s shoulder. He’s shivering, so Galo reaches for the jacket on the ground and half-drapes it over Lio’s shoulders. 

“So someone…”

His stomach churns like the time he’d challenged Varys to a pizza-eating contest. He can see it. A dark figure grabbing Lio— the dizzying light of a fire catching— Lio, alone, Lio, hurt—

“Did you fight back?”

Lio shakes his head, hair shifting across Galo’s skin. Galo reaches for the antibiotic cream. 

“Why… you’re not the type to take a hit lying down.” 

Lio huffs a laugh. “So the ex-Mad Burnish terrorist leader attacks an innocent citizen. Then what? My months of work turn to ash. People are scared. What will my people do if I’m arrested? What will they do when the government decides we’re not innocent?” 

“You are!” 

“It’s hard to believe sometimes,” Lio says. 

“I’m gonna punch them.”

Apparently it’s the right thing to say, because Lio laughs. “Idiot,” he says, but the word is fond. “You can’t just punch problems. And they’re not your problems, either.”

“Ah. Nuh-uh. Your problems, my problems,” Galo says. “We’re a team. We share stuff. Sometimes too much stuff, like when Lucia takes shit from the Burning Rescue communal pile of snacks, because wow, she really puts that stuff away— anyway, your problems, my problems.”

He finishes wrapping Lio’s arm. It’ll do for now; maybe later Galo can drag him to a clinic or call in a favor to get it looked at. 

“Are you hungry? Aina sent us all home with leftovers yesterday, and did you know that Varys is really good at making cookies? What I’m saying is we’ve got robot cookies. And—”

“No,” Lio says firmly. He lifts his head again, and Galo reaches without thinking with the towel to wipe at the blood on Lio’s face. Lio goes still.

“Sorry,” Galo says. 

“I trust you,” Lio repeats. His eyes flicker. 

“Sleep,” Galo decides. “Sleep fixes everything.” 

“Almost everything,” Lio says. He stands and takes a very convincing step—but Galo grabs him when Lio’s legs give out and he crumples. 

“I got you,” Galo tells him, lifting Lio up. Lio weighs, like, nothing. Sure, he can knock a guy in the face as hard as anyone else, but Lio’s  _ also  _ small. He doesn’t eat a couple pizzas on the regular, and it totally shows. 

Whatever’s been keeping Lio going just— disappears now. He goes quiet and limp in Galo’s arms. Pain tightens his face. He’s just hurt, and Galo hates it, hates that people can’t see how cool Lio is. 

“I’ll be out of here tomorrow morning,” Lio says, curling towards the edge of the bed. He’s surprised Lio doesn’t protest more; he’d slept uncomfortably on the couch the last time he crashed at Galo’s place. But maybe he’s too tired to care now. Galo climbs in after setting him down, their backs pressing together to share a spot of warmth. 

“You can stay,” Galo mumbles. “However long you need to. Lio.”

Lio’s silent for so long Galo almost believes he’s fallen asleep. 

But finally— “Thank you, Galo Thymos.” 

Galo grins. “We’re friends.” 

“I tolerate you.”

“That’s a whole lot of tolerating,” Galo says. Lio sighs. 

Galo breathes in. It’s reassuring, to feel Lio pressed to his back. He feels like he’s been missing something for a while now, missing that surge of  _ right  _ when he and Lio had piloted together for the first and the last time in perfect synchronicity. When the fire had flowed from them. 

“I missed you,” Galo admits. It’s easy to say that with their backs against each other, staring at the distant shapes in the darkness. He doesn’t have to look at Lio’s face, or expect anything. “And I’m glad you… I want to help you.” 

“We’re a team, aren’t we?” Lio says, so quietly Galo almost misses it. “I hate being weak.”

Galo wants to roll over, wants to look at Lio’s face, but he thinks  _ no.  _ Lio won’t face him, not like this. 

“You’re not.” 

“And I’m tired.” He’s talking about a lot more than just tired, Galo knows. Tired of fighting, he thinks, and tired of suffering, and tired of holding things together. 

“You’re not alone,” Galo tells him, “you know that?” 

Lio hums. It’s enough for Galo to close his eyes, to let his own tiredness wash over him. The warmth between them. 

“I’m with you,” Lio says. “Tell me that again—tomorrow.” 

_ Tomorrow _ , Galo thinks. He reaches back, searching, and Lio takes his hand. Yeah. There will be a tomorrow, for healing, and for waking, and Lio will have him if nothing else. 

**Author's Note:**

> i saw redux yesterday and i'm desperately trying to write fic/make fanart/consume promare content. 
> 
> anyway this was gonna be a much larger fic where like, lio is like a part of burning rescue or something, and he hides an injury from the whole TEAM for some real whump, but we don't have time for that. if i want to churn out promare fic this is what y'all are getting but MAYBE i'll come back to this idea - let me know if u'd like to see it!
> 
> please let me know what u thought and keep an eye out because lio whump is my new passion
> 
> tumblr: [queenangst](http://queenangst.tumblr.com)


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